


The Art of Disguise

by Aibhilin



Series: Aibhilin's One Piece Flashfic/Drabble/Oneshot Section [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Disguise, Foreshadowing, Foreshadowing Canon, Gen, Mentioned Patricide, Mentioned violence, Pre-Canon, Symbolism Galore, ends on a happy note kinda?, my interpretation of canon clothing choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:48:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24472303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aibhilin/pseuds/Aibhilin
Summary: Donquixote Rosinante has agreed to infiltrate the Donquixote Family, so now he has to settle on an appearance that'd be appropriate for the mission.(he might actually like his chosen ensemble more than he admits to anyone)Character Study/Oneshot.
Relationships: Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante & Sengoku the Buddha, Mentioned Donquixote Doflamingo & Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante
Series: Aibhilin's One Piece Flashfic/Drabble/Oneshot Section [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951219
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	The Art of Disguise

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to stick with one character's POV for this one. Turns out I like distractions and thought digressions...
> 
> Enjoy~

Rosinante was committed and that settled it.

He needed to change.

Looking into the mirror, he saw his reflection peering back at him questioningly.

How was he going to change enough to be nigh unrecognizable to his marine allies? How would he be able to convincingly pull of a farce that’d pull the wool over his own blood brother’s eyes at the same time?

The bases would have been covered by the time he’d properly enter the Donquixote Pirates, his cover story ready to be picked up whenever he was ready. All that was left was his appearance…

Gnawing his teeth together, he let out a deep breath. With a grimace, he thought of how much he craved a smoke but the very next moment he shook his head and refocused on the matter at hand.

Blond hair, that’d have to go. His mouth drew downwards again, showing a few of his teeth in clear disgust. Rosinante didn’t want to cut it off, but now that he’d noticed it, now that he was entering _his brother’s_ gang of pirates, it reminded him too much of how his father’s hair would fall before-

No.

Not going there.

Okay, so something to cover up the hair might help. A hat? Tilting his head to the side, he mused to himself that that just might work.

Doflamingo had three of the four card decks already, it stood to reason that Rosinante would be lifted to fill their ranks as the missing “Corazon” as soon as he got accepted into the Donquixote family.

Yet another grimace adorned his face at the thought.

“Donquixote family”. Unbidden, a shudder ran down his back. His legs and arms tensed up and he had to consciously relax his body to regain a measure of calm that, inside, he didn’t feel at all. He took a conscious breath in, held it for four seconds then let it out again. A well-known routine by now, he did that four more times, until he felt calm enough to get on with it.

Rosinante would meet his brother soon and he’d need to remain composed for that.

In retrospect, all of his spy training and infiltration missions did come in handy now, even though at first he hadn’t liked the thought that his Devil Fruit made him perfect for a spy’s job in the eyes of the marines.

His reluctance to actually perform said job had – according to one doctor’s opinion, at least – resulted in a propensity for falling over – not that he minded that too much, for it successfully got him out of doing missions that his moral standards were diagonally opposed to.

Sengoku-san wasn’t overly happy about it, but by the time that they’d thought to consult a doctor, this little habit had integrated itself so much in his very being that Rosinante wasn’t sure he could ever be rid of it. Didn’t help that he felt like his body was made of limbs, for the most part.

His gangly appearance and the tendency to fall over at any given moment would certainly enhance his image of “clumsy idiot”. It’d undermine anyone’s suspicions of him being anything but who he presented himself as.

Moving towards the chest he’d been given, he looked in to see what they’d gotten him to change into.

With a raised eyebrow, he put a hand into the mess of cloths and pulled out… a cap? It was an appealing red, certainly, but that was about its most redeeming feature. Oh, but there were little hearts at the end of… two straps? Leading away from it.

Settling it on his head, Rosinante felt covered already. Disguised, at least a small bit. A tad safer, even if it was for no one else’s sake but his own. Like he was building himself a shield to hide behind.

Slowly, he stepped towards the mirror to look at himself.

Ah, yeah, it really was… what was this type of hat called? A toke? Toque? Something along those lines. His head would be kept nicely warm under its cover and his hair would be done away with, too.

Two pluses in his book.

Satisfied, he nodded, once, and his mirror image nodded back.

On to the shirt. Turning back to the chest, he lowered his body to rest on to his knees. There were quite a few shirts they’d chosen for him to try out. One with a chess pattern he disregarded entirely, another with stripes was thrown out and to the side as well. There was another one that was black-ish which he regarded with a queasy expression for a moment before moving on.

Then his hand landed on a rosé one with hearts all over it, dotting its surface, and he slowly withdrew it from the chest. Mesmerized, he stared at it.

Even if Doflamingo wouldn’t make him take on the “Corazon” position, Rosinante thought that it was something he’d like to wear. Regardless of repercussions, if Rosinante could choose one item to take with him, it’d be this one.

The marine spy still loved his brother, after all, and it’d fit.

It’d _fit_.

Doflamingo was still his brother, after everything – and Rosinante wasn’t sure if he could ever bring himself to even so much as raise a weapon to the pirate’s head if he had to, but he’d do his utmost best to bring him in. It was the right thing to do and he’d be made to face justice for their father’s murder as well, albeit in an unofficial capacity, seeing as Roci felt like the Celestial Dragons didn’t care to bring that crime to light at all.

The marine portion of Rosinante – the one that had grown up among the marines, had been raised by Sengoku-san, the Fleet Admiral himself – wanted to see his brother behind bars. There was another part within him who was more conflicted about this apparently most obvious solution, however, and it was, influenced by his parents’ efforts in his upbringing and the word “family” in his mind, the bigger part that screamed for his attention.

Almost without thought, the shirt – a rosé shirt with red hearts all over, just as it’d looked like when he’d pulled it out, – was put on and settled lightly over his shoulders. Tugging it this way and that absent-mindedly, unnecessarily, he thought he could see his mother’s smile when he looked back at his reflection. Barely a moment it was there and the next it was gone.

His smile fell and his expression grew contemplative.

Would he have to justify his attire to his brother if he wore it before Doflamingo declared him “Corazon”, before he became part of their “Family”?

Looking into his own eyes, his mind rested on another question: Would he talk at all? That was something to consider before going to where the Donquixote Family had last been seen setting up camp.

The choice of pants was a no-brainer. White went well with any lighter colour, after all, and he wanted to have one more shield up when joining the pirates. Marine colours he could hide easily as a fashion statement – especially if it were trousers that sported them.

He needed the reassurance the colour gave him. Sengoku-san couldn’t be there in person, but he could still bring at least a reminder of his adoptive caretaker with him. Who knew if he survived his infiltration, this time?

Any other time, Rosinante wouldn’t have spent so much time thinking about it, but… this time, it was his brother’s crew he’d need to infiltrate.

His brother, who had shot their father in front of his very eyes when they were young.

The marine in him came to the logical conclusion that he could very well expect Doflamingo to shoot him at first sight.

His eyes came to a rest on a joke item that a few of his colleagues had gotten him.

It was a feathery coat, black and irksome in its impracticality. An ideal disguise, if he wanted to show just how ridiculously ill-fitting his get-up had become in the intervening years.

His backstory that the marines had stacked together included him jumping from one port to the next, barely getting by and not really caring all that much, didn’t it?

Plucking out two or three handfuls barely made a difference and left a wealth of feathers on the coat, but it did make the coat look ramshackle enough for his tastes and unevenly filled out to boot.

Perfect.

Pulling it on, he turned back to the mirror.

Rosinante the marine wearing a clown’s outfit looked back at him. The ensemble was silly. It was over the top and extra in all the wrong places.

Critically, he scrutinized his appearance. The hat would stay. As would the shirt. The trousers he didn’t even have to think about. The coat was great. What was missing? Ah, shoes.

Three pairs of shoes he’d been given to try out – they couldn’t find any others that would fit him without having to go to a tailor to have them made specifically for him. A frown flitted over his face, there and gone.

He started with the most outrageous pair he could find: a pair with small platform heels.

It would be appropriate for someone “getting by” but not on the wealthy side of things, he rationalized to himself as he pulled them on.

It didn’t matter if he liked them, that was just his personal opinion making its way into his professional life.

It would look perfectly alright with the combination of all the other items he’d pulled out of that chest.

Straightening once more and coming to a halt in front of the mirror, it really did not look even so much as a smidgen more ridiculous than the rest of his clothes.

Sengoku-san would roll his eyes in barely hidden amusement once he saw. A childish grin adorned his face at the thought. And was it so bad if every time he saw himself in the mirror, he would be reminded of his adoptive caretaker’s face at the getup? They wouldn’t be able to meet for the near to distant future – well, for however long it’d take Rosinante to take Doflamingo down, at least.

With a grimace, he was again reminded just how much he craved a smoke.

What else did he need to complete the disguise? He still looked like a kid playing dress-up.

It didn’t look natural yet, although he felt like it was growing on him with every minute that passed him by.

Taking his lower lip in-between his teeth, he began gnawing on it a little, contemplating what else was there to disguise. His eyes were drawn to the motion and oh, it was like a lightbulb went off.

Mouth. Eyes. Where was the makeup-kit?

Swirling around, he made to take a step and immediately faceplanted right into the floor, his hands stretched out to the side and useless at catching his momentum.

Ah, he’d earned that, for forgetting the most obvious thing a disguise needed.

A blink of an eye later, and he was upright again.

As if cold water had been thrown over his head, he froze, eyes wide and face pale.

He’d need to curb that, wouldn’t he? His habit of jumping up lighting-quick from such a fall just so he wouldn’t get into trouble or give a bad impression to whoever visited Sengoku-san this time around wouldn’t work in his favour at all once he was in the company of pirates. That would be taken as a weakness and quickly pounced upon, most likely.

A sigh escaped him.

Right, he’d need something to remind him not to do that.

A heart-shaped pendant, attached to his toque, attracted his attention. That might work. Next time he fell, he’d force himself to grab that pendant and… move it to his back, maybe? In a casual display of “I don’t care that I just fell”? That might make him look better suited for a pirate’s lifestyle, in the eyes of onlookers.

Rosinante resolved to try that. Who knew, it might just work.

Grabbing the makeup-kit off the chair besides the chest and closing said chest as an afterthought, he made a beeline for the mirror.

What to change? And how? The possibilities were endless.

The marine spy thought that first of all, his mouth would have to be transformed.

He’d be spending the next few months, years? Lying through his teeth and would like to at least wear a mouth that’d be better suited for that.

Taking a red lipstick out of the kit, he drew a line over his mouth. A knock on the door had him turn his head in the direction of the door and, in this moment of inattention, elongate the line to go up half of his cheek as well.

With a grimace, he bid for whoever was outside to enter the room, looking back at the mirror with hunched shoulders, seeing himself need to wash all of it off again already.

To his great surprise, however, the line that resulted from the carelessly accidental swipe didn’t look half bad. The line disappeared somewhere under his hat and it did kind of make his lips look wider than they were.

A clown’s disguise, huh? He could work with that.

This time, he elongated the line on the other side on purpose to match the one he’d already drawn, utterly ignoring whoever had entered the room and whose gaze he could feel boring into his back. Rosinante could feel the raised eyebrow directed at him.

Satisfied with the result, he rose from the almost-crouch he’d unconsciously leaned forward to adopt.

Raising his head, he smiled at Sengoku-san’s mien. As predicted, the elder rolled his eyes once he turned around to let him see the ensemble in full. His smile was soon reflected back at him, nonetheless.

“You done yet?” he was asked. Ah, small talk. That meant that Sengoku-san wasn’t here as the Fleet Admiral. Seeing as the sun wasn’t down, it wasn’t the end of his workday yet, and Rosinante surmised that he might just be hiding from Garp again.

Fluidly, he turned back towards the mirror. “Not yet.” he frowned in consternation. Something was still missing. A part of his reflection was still Rosinante the marine looking back at him and he’d need to get rid of that part to have a chance at playing his part.

No talking would do its job nicely at making him not get caught up in lies, although it would probably be a pain to figure out an alternative way of talking, should Doflamingo and his crew not know or care to learn sign language.

Blood brother or not, Rosinante wasn’t sure if he would be enough to merit that effort directed at him in their eyes. Well, he’d probably need to bring a notebook with him, in that case.

Sengoku-san, meanwhile, had approached him and was standing side-by-side with him now. They stood in silence for a few more minutes, basking in each other’s presence like they sometimes did when Roci’s periods of silence struck again. Rosinante couldn’t keep from glancing over at his head multiple times, something niggling at the back of his head.

The round silhouette of his head wasn’t grabbing his attention so much as the receding hairline that was almost in the form of a… yes, if he squinted it had the exact shape of a…

“Crown…” he mumbled and his eyes widened and sparkled at the thought. His head snapped up, making Sengoku-san jerk a minuscule amount in response before the older of the two was left to raise an eyebrow at his charge once more.

Rosinante put the makeup kit aside to rest on the closed chest and only pulled out the blue colour. It clashed wonderfully with the purple-red of the hat and acted as a bit of a mediator in-between his lipstick-red and the toque’s colour. The contrast would help cover his face to anyone who knew him and as for the upended crown that was made to sit underneath his right eyebrow?

Well, no one would ask why he’d chosen that symbol in particular, would they? As an added bonus, he was able to bring another keepsake of his caretaker with him on his journey. A carefree laugh rang out as he stared at his latest reflection in the mirror.

The question mark that almost-visibly floated above his caretaker’s head was easily ignored, especially since it wasn’t such a huge thing and he _really_ didn’t want to tell what had inspired his latest change.

His transformation was complete.

“I’m done.” he admitted, sealing his fate as a Donquixote Pirate.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this little snippet of mine ;)
> 
> Thank you very much for reading! Cheers!
> 
> Leave a comment if you'd like?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [If it fits...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25157590) by [Aibhilin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aibhilin/pseuds/Aibhilin)




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